


Drag my Dark Into the Dawn

by KilannaD



Series: What is it to be a Hero? [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brief mention of child molestation, Civil Unrest, Gen, Slight OOC, Team Red, Universe Alteration - Alternate Timeline, Universe Alteration - Peter is Matt's son, crushed under exhaustion, finally meets, no beta we die like my will to live, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilannaD/pseuds/KilannaD
Summary: Someone had done a realistic rendition of Daredevil and Beelzebub, standing tall with fists clenched and bloody, red staining teeth between the twisted, sharp lines of their grins, bodies centered between a wide, formless black shadow and a chaos of brightly coloured blobs, a crowd indistinct from each other. ‘Those Who Protect Deserve Protection’ spans the mural in bright, pure white.Someone else had scrawled ‘Stop the Freaks’ down the middle.__Or; the world starts to realize that superhumans aren't going anywhere.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker
Series: What is it to be a Hero? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014840
Comments: 18
Kudos: 188





	Drag my Dark Into the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title from Revolution by The Score  
> I haven't slept in days. Colours speak to me. I can see Boxes.  
> Anywho. I posted a brief missing scene on my tumblr that takes place back in Act 1, feel free to check it out. Another should be going up in a day or two.  
> There's a small mention of child molestation, non graphic here. Do what you need to take care of yourself.  
> This was written differently than other fics in this verse, so let me know how it came out.

“I’m Christine Everhart and this is News Front. Recently, New York City has been the epicenter of an ever changing world. First known for being home to Captain America in the 40s, followed by having Iron Man put his name in the skyline. Then came the aliens, raining down havoc and destruction, still felt all these years later. Now, it’s known for hosting the first superpowered street vigilantes, starting with Daredevil and spreading to his protégé Beelzebub. Faithful watchers will recall the report on Jessica Jones and how a woman with superstrength took down Kilgrave, a man who could control minds. While Sokovia has felt the effects of the Avengers and rogue AI Ultron, New York City has been nearly unique with its public superhumans. That changes now.

“Last night found Pym Industries CEO Darren Cross in a powered suit with shrinking capabilities fighting against another—known so far only as Ant-Man—with a different suit of the same powers. San Francisco’s first serious taste of enhanced humans left it reeling, with over $20,000 of property damage. Ant-Man has since disappeared, leaving the Governor and Mayor to pay for damages.

“Anti- and pro-superpower protests have begun filling New York, this powerful piece of graffiti inspiring the pro side’s slogan, ‘those who protect deserve protection’, having been defaced just hours after it begun trending on Twitter. ‘Stop the freaks’ is being seen more and more on signs, windows, and heard shouted in the streets. Now, with San Francisco having played host to its own super battle, we’re left with the question of if it too will start choosing sides. And will the rest of the United States be forced to suffer the same damages that New York, Sokovia, and now San Francisco have?”

* * *

Peter kept going back to the graffiti. He stopped on his way to school, in lulls during patrol, on his way to pop in on Jess and have her yell obscenities about how she didn’t need any more demons in her life.

(He’s pretty sure he’s growing on her.)

MJ had hunted them down—easy considering school is out and they were always in one of three places—and dragged Peter and Ned to see it the day the graffiti went up. Peter had called Matt and gotten him to bring Peter his camera and he’d described, in as much detail as possible, the hues of mahogany and garnet, the currant that captured the suits, the void making up a hulking figure, and the splashes of coral, cream, and canary. Matt had looked up, aiming his face at the wall but closing his eyes and breathing deep, the click of Peter’s camera and the cadence of his voice repainting the picture, over and over, for a blind hero to see.

Peter kept going back to it. So he knew, almost to the hour, when it got defaced. It _burned_ , seeing the hate smeared in pine and basil, cutting the words into a cross, half hate and half praise. He took pictures of it, with the same care, the same attention to shadows and lighting, the same angles of up high and down low. Seen from the vigilantes’ roofs and citizens’ street. He had them both blown up and printed on posters, used the allowance Matt kept pressing into his hands every few weeks even though it should probably be going towards medical supplies and food.

He looks at them now, like he does every time he suits up. Let’s the hate burn and the praise freeze, tries to fathom how the world can both hate and love him so much at the same time.

Someone had done a realistic rendition of Daredevil and Beelzebub, standing tall with fists clenched and bloody, red staining teeth between the twisted, sharp lines of their grins, bodies centered between a wide, formless black shadow and a chaos of brightly coloured blobs, a crowd indistinct from each other. _‘Those Who Protect Deserve Protection’_ spans the mural in bright, pure white.

Someone else had scrawled _‘Stop the Freaks’_ down the middle.

Matt, cowl in his hand, waits for Peter by the door. He knows Peter’s new routine, the way he stares at the message left for them in the streets they run. He doesn’t mention it, the same way Peter doesn’t mention how now, before he reaches for his father’s chest, Matt runs his rosary through his fingers and prays for forgiveness for what he’s about to do.

Peter’s belief is centered around balance, around the dark and light circling each other, one never dying or overcoming the other but cycles of power. It’s why Peter does what he does. He knows, deep down, he will never stop crime. Not completely. But he can push it back, force it down until it surges again, over and over.

~~Peter knows he’ll never finish, never stop. Just another spirit stuck in its sequence.~~

~~Vigilantes don’t rest.~~

~~Not until they die.~~

* * *

Beelzebub stops a school bus full of children. He’s out in Midtown, earlier in the evening now that high school is out. One of the elementary schools has a summer trip, though, and when he hears the scream of the kids, the cussing of the driver, the way the breaks slide frictionless against each other, he reacts instantly. Beelzebub’s sense screams at him to move but he plants himself, bending his knees and bracing even as he uses a web to create a net. It breaks, but it also slows it down and that’s enough. No one is hurt and dozens of people catch it on their phones. For a few, precious weeks, the anti-powers movement dies down. No one wants to be the ones arguing Beelzebub shouldn’t have been out saving children.

And then Professor Charles Xavier, of the hitherto unheard of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, gives out a press release. And the world changes all over again.

* * *

**New Breed of Humans? ‘Mutants’ Go Public**

_By J. Jonah Jameson, Publisher of the Daily Bugle, June 26 th, 2015_

There is some debate over when “superhumans” evolved. Older generations, especially those who survived WWII, claim that Captain America—Steve Rogers—was the first meta human. With recent societal changes however, there are those who say his brand of superhuman is the same as Tony Stark’s—science giving incredible powers. And what is there to fear about humans making leaps and bounds in science as we have for centuries? But the people born with powers, different and alien—sometimes literally!—those are a different category. While there is some public debate over Daredevil and Beelzebub—whether the former even has powers is unknown—it’s generally said that the latter’s webs are organic which indicates his powers are evolutionary. Recently outed Jessica Jones, known for superstrength and her execution of mind-controller Kilgrave, hasn’t been forward about the source of her own powers, though Kilgrave’s, if Trish Walker and _The Walker Report_ are to be believed, were results of illegal child experimentation. All of this is to say that as more and more humans with powers appear, the murkier labeling and humanity itself becomes.

Yesterday the situation changed completely when Charles Xavier, a previously unknown character, released a statement revealing that he is part of a subspecies of humans with innate abilities. “Professor X” explained that he has been hunting down “mutants” with co-founder Erik Lehnsherr, inducting them into his “school” and “training them to control powers that nature gave freely.” When pressed, Professor X revealed that mutants have kept themselves hidden for decades for fear of prosecution and only now feel like powered humans are getting enough recognition for society to be accepting of their kind.

“We are not so different from normal humans,” said the professor. “We may have unusual powers and some of us may look different, but at heart we are still human.” How human these mutants are is under dispute. Powers released include telepathy, teleportation, magnetic control, and nature manipulation. I am under no belief that these are the limits.

White House officials have stated that legislation is in development to bring “mutants” under the umbrella of human rights, though conservative Lieutenant General Thaddeus Ross has announced they are waiting on a biological workup of mutants—some of Professor X’s students volunteered. Until results return, we won’t really know if mutants are truly human.

* * *

Peter and Ned meet up at MJ’s place. She calls them in when they knock, but doesn’t turn around. Peter’s visited once or twice, but the armoire with a padlock—heavy, needs both passcode and key to open—currently open and revealing a corkboard with every piece of news to do with mutants, the growing power division, and a list of names that mean nothing to Peter—who names themselves Deadpool? That sounds fucking stupid—is new.

“Your, uh, dad and stepmom don’t wonder about that?” Ned asks, gesturing to the padlock.

“My parents believe in privacy. Also, for when they inevitably get snoopy…” she flips the board and the other side shows the back of the armoire with another board, this one covered with information about protests and pros and cons list for all of them. Peter looks at the back and, by putting the armoire on tracks leading in and out of her closet for saving space, she’s allowed herself enough room behind the furniture for a fake back that hides the second board completely.

Sometimes, MJ is scarily smart.

“So is the conspiracy board why you called us here?”

“Pretty much. You busy?”

Peter shrugs, settling onto the wall so Ned can take the desk chair. They both avoid the bed.

MJ rolls her eyes, muttering “boys” as she collapses down and gestures at the wall of papers and notes. He almost feels like there should be red string involved.

“An acquaintance of mine says that the _Bugle_ was honest, for once. There really is legislation being written to bring mutants and other powered people under human classification. Which is great, considering it’ll make it harder for bigots to do bigot things. Bad news is the bigots are being bigots.” She points at a headline, one Peter recognizes. “A protest got violent, two dozen injured. It’s the only serious one, as of right now, but I doubt it’ll last. Now that mutants are public, more and more seem to be popping up everywhere and their powers are nuts. Deadpool is a merc that is—get this—literally immortal.”

“Fire,” Peter says at the same time Ned goes;

“Beheading.”

“First of all,” MJ points out, “If you’re dealing with an ‘immortal’, use a wood chipper and then a vacuum. Second of all, my source says it’s all been tried and Deadpool just… comes back. Regenerates. My source showed me a hand that Deadpool had cut off himself and given to some dude he’d gotten in a fight with at a bar.”

“You sure they weren’t pulling your chain?”

She stares Peter down and he shrinks back a little. “The hand was folded into flipping someone off. And had a red and black spandex glove on it. No, I don’t think that was staged.”

“Uh, question.” Ned raises his hand, putting it down when they both turn to him. “Who exactly are your sources?”

“You still in the hacktivist cult?” MJ snaps back. Peter sucks in a breath, hairs rising in the abrupt quiet that follows. MJ looks away, lips pressed tight and Ned’s face drops, hands starting to play with the fabric of his shirt.

None of them have been talking about It. It being details about Beelzebub, Belphegor and whatever name MJ’s taken up. Because she has a name, Peter knows. She’s too smart to be doing whatever _this_ is without a codename, without protection. They don’t ask too much about when pedophiles are found with shattered tibias and ulnas and he doesn’t ask questions when Rising Tide gets mentioned in whispers as having outed a CIA Black Op, or when MJ passes him the location of a weapon deal about to go down. So far, they’ve been operating by a live and let live policy. But now, with protests in the streets and graffiti calling for Beelzebub’s head

~~Stop the Freaks.~~

maybe it’s time they pay attention to each other.

“So I broke up a gang bang last night,” he announces. Lead ins are for wimps. “Cracked a couple ribs and got shot.”

“You were _shot_?” Ned squeaks, voice at least three octaves higher. He twists where he sits, scanning Peter and, when he can’t find anything, making grabby hands. Peter obligingly lifts his shirt to show the slightly stained gauze near his waist. The bullet had gotten stuck in there which sucks because Peter hates having Claire dig around inside him, but it hadn’t hit anything important and already was mostly healed. Ned makes a strangled sound and offers the chair. Peter waves him off. Ned makes another, more insistent strangled sound, and Peter can’t bring himself to tell Ned that sitting on walls and ceilings is far more comfortable than sitting on chairs.

(Chairs on the ceiling? That would be perfect, he should look into that.)

Ned, with no other seat options besides the bed, leans against the wall.

“My bed won’t bite, you know?”

“You might,” Ned mutters. Peter, having been subjected to a very similar interaction between Karen and Foggy after which Matt choked (why wasn’t hard to figure out considering Karen and Foggy both went beet red and refused to look at each other), decided to take after his father and choke before changing the topic.

“We were having a sharing time.”

“Should I get out the talking stick?” MJ snarks, but breathes sharply through her nose. “Look, I’m fine with honesty, but for the sake of plausible deniability, we really shouldn’t tell each other all the details.”

“Unless one of us is in danger.” Ned and MJ look at him with various levels of incredulousness. Which, okay, fair. “Like, new, high, unusual levels of danger. I just want to know if I need to break up a conspiracy hacktivist group is all, okay?”

“Rising Tide is fine,” Ned assures. “And not a cult.” MJ raises a brow but doesn’t comment. “Look, none of us use real names and if you’re capable of being hacked or your location found, you wouldn’t be in it in the first place. That’s just how it goes. Sunny, the person who recruited me, is super chill and isn’t even close to being fanatic about it. But I-” He cuts himself off, shrugging tightly. “I like knowing I’m making a difference. Not that I don’t enjoy helping out with Beelzebub! But this is…” Ned waves limply but MJ nods in agreement.

“It’s something that you do for you, because you want to and can.”

“Yeah.”

Peter gets that. He wouldn’t know how to function without Beelzebub.

“I’ve been building a network,” MJ murmurs in the following quiet. “I have a step-cousin that’s… _involved_. He put me in contact with some other people, and after collecting some information, well. People are more willing to talk if you offer something in exchange.”

“Dude,” Peter burst out, “You’re an information broker.” Her lips quirk and she shrugs in a ‘are-you-surprised?’ kind of way. And he isn’t, not really. MJ is wicked smart and knows how to read people incredibly well. Plus, she knows everything. If this is what she’s decided to do, then she’ll kick ass at it.

“But,” she begins slowly, staring at the headline declaring a pro-powers parade yesterday, “Considering some of my contacts, it might be worth it to learn a thing or two.” She meets his eyes, jaw set and determination blazing. “Think you could teach me?”

There’s a rush through his limbs, lips pulling back to show teeth. He meets her eyes, then Ned’s. He considers before tipping his head. All Peter’s ever wanted are the people he cares about safe. And he cares about everyone, he knows he does, because everyone deserves to have someone that cares. But he can’t be everywhere in the city at once so having two people, at least, that he knows can take care of themselves? It’ll help.

“Think you guys can meet me in Hell’s Kitchen tonight?”

* * *

Beelzebub and Daredevil hear screaming coming from the warehouse district and so, like the incredibly intelligent people they are, run towards it. The fact that they were, at the time of hearing said screaming, standing in Jess’s apartment and fucked right out the open window without saying anything reinforces their intelligence level. Or maybe lowers their wisdom. Peter hasn’t made it to any of Ned’s DnD games lately.

By the time they get there the screaming has stopped, likely because everyone is dead. Bodies litter the warehouse, some from bullets, others dismembered. Each body is carrying its own weapon and there are what look like destroyed lab samples in crates.

“This is a CDC nightmare,” Beelzebub says, steering clear of a collection of discoloured liquids.

“Forget CDC, I want to know why there’s an extra arm.”

Beelzebub whips around to find Daredevil standing with his head tilted, foot gentling nudging a severed arm, wearing red and black. It isn’t the only unattached one.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“There’s fifteen bodies.”

Beelzebub double checks and confirms. “Yes.”

“So why do I count thirty- _one_ arms?”

Beelzebub goes through the warehouse again. He doesn’t move anything, but it’s easy enough to match what arms are unattached to bodies. And for the life of him, he can’t figure out where the extra came from.

Daredevil and Beelzebub get out of there real quick, though Beelzebub drops a call to Vinny.

* * *

Jess is waiting for them when they get home, which, uh, what? They never told her where they lived?

“Surprised you can afford this place,” she says when they freeze by the roof exit, downing one of Matt’s beers and grimacing. “Should’ve known you had shit taste in liquor, Devil Boy.”

Peter, helmet off and blood dripping from his knuckles, says the first thing that comes to mind. “This isn’t our place.” Matt, beside him and hair sticking every which way, doubles down as they both slam their helmets back on.

“A friend lives here. He just lets us use it as a pit stop after patrol.”

She snorts, eyebrows so high they disappear in her own disaster hair. “Oh yeah. Totally believe that.” She taps the Murdock Mandates, still posted on the fridge. “Because every father-son pair has a list of rules for vigilanting. You always such shit liars?”

“No,” they both say with zero conviction.

“You know,” she goes on, walking over and flipping the lights on, skirting around plants so she can stare at them with more than a little judgement, “I clocked Murdock as Daredevil when he got me out of cuffs, but I didn’t honestly think he’d let his kid run around in tights with him.” Matt tenses, hands curling, but Jess doesn’t accuse him of anything, just turns to Peter. She waits, and finally, he pulls his helmet back off. “This your choice?” she asks when he meets her eyes.

“Everyday.”

She nods, starts digging through cabinets. Peter knows there’s nothing in them.

~~He watched Matt empty all the booze down the sink when he moved in. They only keep shitty German beers now.~~

She huffs when she realizes this, going back for another beer.

“Jesus, Murdock, what do you drink?”

“The blood of my enemies,” he deadpans, but she waves her hand.

“I meant after that.”

“Uh, Jess?” Peter breaks in, finally moving downstairs before Matt can say whatever is making him grin like that. “Not that I don’t love you breaking into our home—the location of which we never revealed—but why are you here?”

“You’re kidding, right? You guys bust in and then take off like hellhounds? ‘Course I came by.”

“We didn’t bust in,” Matt corrects, stepping into his room to get change and yelling to be heard. Peter copies him. “We were checking up on you.”

“Did I ask to be checked up on?”

“No one _asks_ to be checked up on,” Peter explains when he comes back out in pajamas. She snickers at the little devils on them (a recent gift from Ned) but he only grins. “But we do it anyway. That’s what friends do.”

“Who said we were friends?”

“Who said we weren’t?” Matt singsongs, coming out in sweats and a Tee. As usual, his pants are tucked into his socks and Jess, knowing prime blackmail opportunity, took a picture of him and Peter next to each other. Peter mugs at her, and she snickers.

“I say we’re not. Also, since when do you check up on Trish?”

“Since we check up on you.” She glares at Matt as he goes on. “Plus, she mentioned getting sued because of leaving Trish Talk. I gave her Foggy’s number.”

“Not your own?”

“I never recommend myself. It’s unprofessional,” he says with all the dignity of a man standing in pajamas can.

Jess chokes on laughter and beer and Matt, proud of himself for this accomplishment, plants himself on the counter and smugly sips his own beer. Glad that the adults are doing their own thing, Peter says goodnight and, after shooting a text to Black Clematis asking for info on the warehouse murder, passes out.

__

MJ reports that rumor claims Deadpool is hunting down some asshole for revenge and the warehouse was a part of that. She also says, “Weasel confirms, which means the info is good. He also warned me to stay the fuck out of Deadpool’s way. Apparently this Ajax he’s going after? Not someone you want to get involved with either and getting in the middle of that is a death sentence. Whole mercenary community has money on how this goes down.”

How MJ knows this—and how the hell did she get involved with _mercenaries_ , what the fuck, girl?—is unknown, but Peter trusts her. He relays this information to Matt and, after considering the recent editions to the Murdock Mandates, decides they are staying out of it.

Considering the Mandates in question are written on scrap papers shoved through the braille printer, it’s a very adult decision and Foggy and Karen both seem proud of Matt for it. He even gets cookies. Bearing in mind the Mandates go as follows, Peter doesn’t begrudge them the response.

  1. Should another take point on a problem (be thy government or another super) thou shall stay out of it.
  2. Exception to Mandates 7, 8, and 10 is incurred when help is requested or threat level reaches 4 or higher.



The threat levels were determined based on scope, potential casualties, and powers involved. A four meant anything above a hundred innocent lives, someone with a power that’s only use was insidious, or spanning an entire borough. Deadpool, as thus far he only went after specific criminals, they declared a three. Dangerous, and should probably be taken off the streets, but they wouldn’t go chasing him. That decided, they turned to other problems. Namely;

The Human Classification Act that Rising Tide leaked.

* * *

**The Walker Report: Human Classification**

_By Trish Walker, July 1 st, 2015_

With news of mutants spreading, society is faced with a unique question; how do we classify humans? Human has been a species for thousands of years, broken down into race; the colour of one’s skin; nationality; one’s homeland, and lastly one’s religious inclination. All these things play into our identities, though anything else falls more on the personal side of things. But that’s no longer enough. Humanity, with the US as ground zero, has entered a new age.

Republican President Matthew Ellis, now in his seventh year at the White House, has released a statement indicating that he’ll be signing the Human Classification Act into law tomorrow afternoon. Among other things, the HCA names four categories of human—norms (those without powers), mutants (those born with the x-gene that causes natural power development), mutates (norms that were given powers by an outside source like Hulk or Captain America), and enhanced individuals (norms with equipment or technology that makes them superhuman, like Iron Man). The HCA names each of these categories as human and therefore subject to human rights and laws. Extraterrestrials are also protected by the HCA, which essentially causes them to be treated as foreign citizens.

But what does this all mean in practice?

Well, superhumans being officially declared humans—and a specific part of the HCA—means they can’t be discriminated against any more than someone from a different race or religion. Professor X, leader and spokesperson of mutants, has begun taking steps to solidify a mutant team to respond to any potential super threat—a mutant version of the Avengers called ‘X-Men’.

There is currently ongoing debate of whether human classification should be added to government paperwork and the Census. The issue has been tabled, however, in favor of public outcry.

There is a developing sect—termed by slang as “Normals”—that are calling for more control and regulations of superhumans. These Normals are calling for registration, and in some extreme cases, death for superhumans. As of right now, government officials are not interfering with protests unless they turn violent.

It does beg the question of how long this tentative peace is going to last.

* * *

Beelzebub is only in the area by accident. He and Daredevil decided that going near the anti-power rallies was just asking for trouble and so he’d been staying away. But he could _hear_ screaming, and not the usual hateful stuff. So, he swung nearer, and, like many of those below, recognized Scott Summers for one of the mutants.

Beelzebub also knew a hate mob when he saw it.

* * *

**Battle of Ideology: Mutant vs Mutant**

_By James Henricks, Reporter for the Bulletin, July 10 th, 2015_

News of mutants has been driving up tensions since they went public. While these tensions have pervaded the world, mutant leader Charles Xavier is centered here in New York, and his presence is felt. In some cases, it’s even resented.

Some may recall Scott Summers, mutant codenamed Cyclops, who was attacked last week. Summers had been on a walk in Midtown when an anti-mutant activist recognized him from part of the mutants that went public with Professor X and proceeded to attack him. Summers defended himself, his power leading to aggressor Jack Richards to sustaining four different broken bones. A mob went after Summers in retaliation and he only escaped when well-known vigilante Beelzebub interfered. Richards pressed charges against Summer but lost in court.

“Mutants are still human,” Summers’s attorney Franklin Nelson said. “We have to treat them like such. Richard didn’t and the law punished him for it.” Nelson, of _Nelson and Murdock_ , sued Richard for assault, discrimination, and slander against Summers.

Many thought that’d be the end of this story, but it wasn’t.

In a shocking move, Erik Lehnsherr, co-founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngster, responded to the hate directed at his people by publicly cutting from Xavier and their school. Several students are noted to have left with him. Professor X says they had ideological differences, made apparent when Lehnsherr, codename Magneto, attacked an anti-mutant protest killing six and injuring over a dozen more.

Professor X and President Ellis had a closed meeting earlier this morning, after which the President announced he was sanctioning Professor X and some of his elite students going after Magneto and his terrorists. The “X-Men” seem to be mutants’ answer to the Avengers. When asked, President Ellis said the Avengers would be called in if the X-Men fail or casualties climb too high. One has to wonder if the six lives lost makes the casualty list too long already.

* * *

Foggy finishes reading out the article to Matt and Karen.

“Look at you getting an honourable mention,” Karen says, swatting at him. He dances away, determinately not staring at her smile.

“You did good work on that one, Fogs.” Matt, for once, isn’t black and blue over his collar line and so Foggy doesn’t feel the awful combination of guilt, worry, and anger at the sight of his best friend’s face rounding with a soft smile.

“Yes, well.” Summers had been Foggy’s first case alone, but Matt had cracked a rib and, in accordance with Mandate nine, had been forced to bed rest. It’d felt really good to do it though. To get someone off by himself, to know he didn’t _need_ Matt to do good. “It was an easy case and Summers deserved someone in his corner.”

“We’re still grateful.”

They all whirled, even Matt startling so bad he banged his elbow into the door, which said a lot about the stealth of the—blue? Mutant, then—person in front of them.

“Sorry.” He ducks his head into his shoulders. “Professor always says teleporting into a room is rude, but I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself.”

“It’s alright,” Matt says, recovering first. “Just startled us is all. I’m Matt Murdock. Can I assume you’re a mutant as well, then?”

The guy looks confused for the five seconds it takes for him to notice the red glasses and cane leaning against the door. Foggy can’t exactly blame him considering he’s literally completely blue and has a tail.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Kurt, aka Nightcrawler, mutant. Sorry, since we’ve gone public I figured most people would assume.” Matt tilts his head curiously, probably trying to figure out what marks him visually as a mutant. Or maybe trying to figure out what’s displacing the air behind Kurt.

Foggy coughs, uncomfortable but going for it despite it’s probable rudeness. “He’s blue, Matt, and has a tail.” He redirects his attention to Kurt. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You must be Nelson and Scott says you’re cool.” Foggy feels himself heat up a little and Karen, behind him, makes a delighted sound.

“Well, uh, thanks. This is Karen Page, by the way, our secretary.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well. Uh, we all wanted to say thank you, for helping Scott out. And for what you said to the papers, Mr. Nelson.”

“Call me Foggy. And no thanks needed.” Anger bubbles again at the image of Summers molted purple with bruises, a hand print clear around his throat. “What happened to Summers was unforgivable. None of us care about powers or classification or whatever.” Least of all Matt, considering he’s a mutate.

“Still.” Kurt smiles and hands him a disposable container. He pops the lid to see some clearly homemade pastries. “Their apple strudels. Scott helped me make them. And some of the younger kids did this.” He offers a card, coloured wildly in the way only children manage with a huge, glittering _Thank You_ scrawled on the front. Inside, Foggy sees when he flips it over, is a message thanking him for taking care of Summers and treating them like humans. It breaks his heart a little.

“I-” he has to clear his throat, flipping the card closed and placing both gifts carefully on Karen’s desk. “I appreciate it, but really, no thanks needed. The shit you guys are going through is terrible. Not that I condone Magneto, either, but still.”

Kurt grimaces, tail lashing. “Erik…” he shakes his head. “Erik is complicated. We’ll be dealing with him shortly.” He smiles again. “Thank you. Really. Oh, and here. Professor X wanted me to deliver this in person.” Kurt offers Foggy a check—a very _generous_ check.

“That’s not needed,” he protests, even though they’re sort of desperately in need of money. “I told Summers I’d do this pro bono.”

“We can afford it,” Kurt insists. “And you did good work. Professor wanted to show gratitude.” Kurt waves off another protest. “Seriously. We aren’t taking no for an answer. I’ll leave you guys to your job.”

“Wait.” Matt skims Karen’s desk until he hits the pile of cards they keep there. He pulls out a small stack and offers it about a half foot to Kurt’s left. Kurt accepts them. “If any of you guys need anything, give us a call. We’ll be happy to help. Money or no.”

Kurt breathes in sharp enough that even Foggy hears it. “Thank you.” Then he’s gone with a small pop and Matt is wrinkling his nose.

“He reeks of sulfur when he does that.”

“Worried he’s going to take your devil schtick?”

Matt mugs hard, but is appeased by strudel.

* * *

They hear the screams while they’re in the office. Karen and Foggy both go tense when, as one, Matt and Peter freeze and snap their heads towards the East Village.

“It’s far,” Peter murmurs, teeth worrying his lip.

“I can’t make out details, but I think the X-Men are there.”

“But-”

“Mandate ten.”

“This is at least a five.”

Matt presses his lips tight and shakes his head. Peter falls silent.

Neither of them explain what’s happening, but they don’t leave. They just sit ramrod still, tight and troubled, jaws set.

* * *

“I’m Christine Everhart and this is News Front. Around the country people are choosing sides for or against superhumans. Most of those against supers are calling for more regulation, registration, and government control and, it seems, that yesterday they were shown to have valid concerns and solutions.

“Last week, Magneto and a rogue group of mutants attacked a protest and police were woefully under prepared to handle them. This morning they attacked again but East Village police called the X-Men in. The resulting battle was very reminiscent of other super battles we’ve seen. Lots of building damage, lots of civilian injuries. But, in a shocking move, there were no casualties. Indeed, mutant codenamed Nightcrawler spent nearly the entire fight pulling civilians to safety and, in one case, taking a metal rod through the shoulder for them. By the end, Magneto and his group were arrested and handed over to police custody.

“There is some question of where President Ellis will be keeping the arrested terrorists. He has assured the public that a permanent solution is in the works and until it is completed, the Avengers Compound has been retrofitted with the necessary equipment to keep the mutants under control.

“Perhaps more shocking is the response by Normals. While most are still calling for regulations, Jack Richards, the very man who attacked Scott Summers, had this to say;

“’They still aren’t really human, are they? I mean, I’m definitely human and can’t do any of the sh*t they do. But, well, we have trained dogs in the police force and military. Having them do this kind of thing would be just like that. Have the freaks fight the freaks with government oversight, and things might calm down. Maybe if the Avengers reported to someone, Sokovia wouldn’t have happened.’

“While the phrasing is bigoted, the message does have merit. The X-Men managed to restrain and arrest half a dozen terrorist mutants with the President’s okay. Is this maybe the start of a standard?”

* * *

**The Walker Report: Immortal Mutant?**

_By Trish Walker, July 16 th, 2015_

Two days ago many will remember when a leviathan, downed during the Battle of New York, blew up. It seems, based on evidence collected and police reports from these past weeks, that another mutant vs mutant battle occurred.

Body of Francis Freeman, wanted for questioning in six active cases, was found at the sight of the explosion. Rogue mutant Angel Dust, real name unknown, has been given over to government officials by the X-Men. Evidence at sight connects Freeman with the burned lab from half a year ago that is thought to have been used for human experiments. Now X-Men say “Ajax”—Freeman—has been using labs to activate latent mutant abilities in nonconsenting subjects.

While it seems on the surface that this is a simple case of the newly government sanctioned X-Men going after a supervillain, witness reports claim another figure is the one who killed Ajax. A man in red and black who others called “Deadpool”. Deadpool supposedly had a knife through his skull but recovered immediately upon its removal. X-Men refuse to comment on the situation.

One wonders if Deadpool is going the way of vigilante if he’s not part of the X-Men. And if he did become sanctioned, what good could someone with apparent immortality do?

* * *

Beelzebub moves in slowly, crawling across the ceiling with silent, sticky hands. Daredevil closes in from the ground, dancing across the old floor without a sound. In between them, a weapons dealer stands surrounded by crates. The buyer hasn’t shown up at the musty apartment yet, but that’s okay. Daredevil and Beelzebub can wait.

Instincts scream, and Beelzebub throws out a web to bring the dealer down as he hits the ground, rolling with the inertia as a gunshot rings through the air. The dealer screams, fighting the webs, but Beelzebub webs him again and Daredevil knocks him out for good measure. Neither of them stand up, staring at the window with a perfect bullet hole through it.

“Sniper,” Daredevil snarls, tilting his head. “Man, large and heavy, carrying a lot of guns. And…swords? What the fuck.”

“Dude, what is this, a video game?”

“He’s on the move heading towards us.”

They step back into the shadows, leaving the unconscious body in the middle of the floor. The door creaks open slowly, a gun edging in before a body. Daredevil is right about the size. Guy has to be over six feet and packed with muscles. He did indeed have two katanas strapped to the back of his red and black spandex suit.

Big Red makes kissing noises with his mouth, cooing quietly, “Come out come out, lil’ vigilante. I know you’re in here~” Beelzebub, because despite common belief he is not, in fact, a dumbass, stays where he is clinging to the wall in shadows. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby demon, but if I take out my mark I want to know you’re not about to eat my head.” He stops tutting, shrugging his shoulders. “Oh, good idea, Yellow.” Big Red aims at the downed dealer and Beelzebub reacts instantly, sending out a web to the opposite corner of the room. It smacks into the wall loudly, and Beelzebub uses the sound to cover his crawling up the wall and onto the ceiling. Good thing because Big Red spins, not even stopping to look where the web landed and instead zeroing in where it’d been shot from.

“Spider-demon, spider-demon, does whatever spider-demon does~” Big Red sings under his breath, inching forwards. Beelzebub hovers on the ceiling, arching his back so Big Red passes just underneath him as Beelzebub contorts himself to keep his eyes on him.

Daredevil, silent and quick as a shadow, makes his way behind Big Red, who keeps singing quietly.

Everything is thrown into chaos quickly, Big Red twisting and aiming for Daredevil but Beelzebub manages to web the gun and throw it away. Daredevil goes in low to tackle, but Big Red twists, using Double-D’s momentum to throw him into the wall. Peter swallows the familiar panic at Daredevil’s potential injury, latching instead onto Big Red’s extended arm, throwing himself down and using his enhanced strength to bring Big Red over his shoulder and down into the ground. He makes an oof, and Double-D shows up the next second, slamming Big Red’s head into the ground over and over.

“ _Harder daddy_.”

Daredevil drops Big Red like he’s hot, back peddling quickly. Beelzebub chokes, face burning. Big Red lifts his head, staring Daredevil mask to mask.

“Did I say the safe word? Is daddy your safe word? Sorry, I can use mommy if you prefer.”

When Daredevil looks to Beelzebub, all he can do is shrug. He has no idea what’s happening right now and he would very much like to leave now, please and thanks. Daredevil starts forward again but Big Red holds up his hands, shouting;

“Wait!” Big Red gets up slowly, keeping his hands seen the whole time. Daredevil and Beelzebub tense, but as long as Big Red doesn’t go for his weapons, they’ll let him speak. “We could surely fight all night, to an even draw if that’s what you want. Hell, you can even call all your men to help you, if you so desire. But I’ll fend them all off. ‘Cause here’s the th-”

“Wait! Hold up!” Beelzebub waves his hands wildly, watching as Big Red’s dramatic speech cuts off abruptly. (Had there just been music in the background? No way.) Beelzebub knows this speech, has added video description to Matt as they watched it with Foggy and Karen. “Are you quoting _Galavant_ at us?”

“ _You_ know _Galavant_?”

“Duh. One of the best pieces of musical satire in the modern age.”

Big Red stares, hard, at Beelzebub. His mask is all tight cloth, none of the armor Melvin incorporates, and the white of his eyes show no emotion, reveal no humanity.

~~He never thought the void would be white.~~

“Oh. My. _Gawd_!” Big Red lurches forward, and Beelzebub is cursing his instinct’s silence when he realizes Big Red isn’t attacking, but instead, hugging him close to his chest and swinging Beelzebub around. “Who knew demons had good taste in TV! Red, I’m stealing your mentee, F.Y.I. Hope you don’t mind me skipping out on the paperwork, my tragic backstory takes _forever_ to fill in.”

Beelzebub can’t hear over the sudden pounding in his ears, his breath tight because he _doesn’t know this man_ and his arms are tight and Peter is

~~His back hits the bed and he squirms he doesn’t want-~~

being pulled out, Daredevil’s—Matt, his _dad_ —hand firm on his shoulder as he snarls in Big Red’s face, stepping between them. Peter shoves the memories down, locks them in the little box they live in, lets it go back to collecting dust. Big Red opens and closes his arms in a hug over air, pout somehow translating through the mask.

“Touch him again and I’ll rip out your spine.”

“Okay, okay, no touching, got it. But seriously, if you could just let me kill the asshole waking up behind you and then maybe we can all go get chimichangas? Black Clematis says you guys are cool, and, gotta admit Red, you have a tight ass.” Big Red leans over to get a better look at Double-D’s ass and makes a loud appreciative noise. Beelzebub gags, but feels better that he has something to focus on.

“You aren’t killing anyone,” Daredevil snaps back, and Beelzebub has a lot of respect for his ability to ignore someone staring _that hard_ at his ass.

“I hear you, I _do_ ,” Big Red says, still talking to the ass. “But maybe let’s think about how, instead of not killing the asshole who sells weapons and drugs to kids, we kill the asshole who sells weapons and drugs to kids. It’s a win-win.”

“For who?” Beelzebub can’t help but ask.

“Me. And, like, society. Yeah that’s a good answer. Society. And my bank account.”

Bank account? Wait. Red and black. Killer. Katanas. Has some line of contact back to Black Clematis. Holyshit.

“Wait. You’re the mutant who’s ability is immortality. You’re Deadpool.”

“BINGO! Get the spider-demon a prize.” He finally lifts his head. “I really got to kill that fucker though, and if we want chimichangas afterward we need to get going.”

“No,” Daredevil says again, harder.

“Who hired you to kill him, anyway?”

“Can’t say that, it’s unprofessional to discuss they who did the hiring in front of those who have a hit on them.”

Beelzebub turns to find the dealer wiggling, trying to worm out of the webs. He knocks him out again and doesn’t feel too bad about potential concussions.

“He’s out,” Daredevil drawls, “Now talk.”

“Still a little rude,” Deadpool points out. “More merciful just to kill him.”

“If you really can’t die,” the Devil threatens, low and quiet, “Then I don’t have to worry about killing you when I start breaking bones. _Talk_.” Deadpool stares at him again, tension crawling through the air and settling viscous on their shoulders.

Deadpool deliberately reaches out, hand slow and movements clear as he leans into Daredevil’s space and bops him on the nose. Beelzebub is pretty sure he’s never seen Double-D so ready to break a neck and fuck off in the other direction simultaneously before.

“The Lucchese family,” Deadpool says randomly, and it takes Beelzebub a second to realize he’s answering their question. “Says this idiot is moving in on their terf. Wants me to bring them his head and his product.”

“So you know where they’re going to be?” Beelzebub asks quickly, mind already racing with possibilities. After Gambino and Genovese took the hit a while back, everyone started circling for the power vacuum left by two Dons getting put away. It’d be great to get another one down.

“Yeeeeeep.”

Beelzebub looks to Daredevil, already vibrating with a plan in mind. Double-D sighs deeply, throwing his head back to ask the heavens to deliver him patience. Deadpool takes this chance to go back to looking at his ass. Daredevil hasn’t said _no_ , which basically meant _yes_.

“So, Big Red,” Beelzebub asks casually, leaning forward and baring his teeth. Deadpool looks up, tilting his head curiously. “You want to balance your karma?”

* * *

**BigDD (@marrymedaredevil):** @maskwatchnyc, #beelzebub and #daredevil sighting, on 9th and 43rd. _Image._ They were with a third red person though.

 **Hero Finder (@maskwatchnyc):** @marrymedaredevil I think that’s Deadpool?????? Can anyone confirm if this is the mutant that the Walker Report mentioned?

 **JKR (@fatbastrd):** @maskwatchnyc can confirm. I was one of the witnesses to the Ajax thing. That third red guy was def there.

 **KellyStrong (@kellyarmstrong):** @maskwatchnyc @marrymedaredevil @fatbastrd weird that the demons are meeting up with a known killer. They usually don’t go that way.

 **The Walker Report (@trishwalker):** @maskwatchnyc @fatbastrd @kellyarmstrong Detective Vinny Puzo just released a statement saying that police received an anonymous tip. At location, suspected Lucchese mafia was found with weapons and a recording of them admitting to hiring Deadpool to kill an enemy drug dealer and bring them the weapons. No dead bodies were found, but evidence that Deadpool, Daredevil, and Beelzebub worked together was. None of them were apprehended.

 **Hero Finder (@maskwatchnyc):** @trishwalker as if those three would ever get caught by the cops. #TeamRed is best team.

* * *

“These are some really good chimichangas.”

“Right?! Chimichangas are my fourth greatest love.”

“If Double-D is saying they’re really good, they’ve reached godhood. He’s super picky.”

“I’m not _picky_.”

“Sorry, man, can’t hear you over the sound of you throwing up at Doritos.”

“ _No._ He wouldn’t. Red, tell me mini-Red is lying.”

“They are nothing but chemicals and air.”

“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t like Kitty.”

“Who?”

“Wow, Double-D. I didn’t realize you were that much of an uncultured swine.”

“That’s it. I can’t do this anymore. Mini-Red, you and me are striking out on our own.”

“I feel like colour based nicknames are futile.”

“I can’t hear you, heathen. Team Red will function just fine without you.”

“Uh, what?”

“Big Red, did you just…give us a team name?”

“No. The Powers That Be gave it to us, like, five minutes ago. Or several years, depending on which power you’re speaking of.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Don’t worry about it, Red. We’re trending on Twitter and that’s enough.”

There’s a beat of silence while Daredevil and Beelzebub seriously consider their life choices.

“You’re aware if you kill anyone we’re going to have to kick your ass and have you arrested, right?”

“That… might be a problem. I got bills to pay, man.”

“You know, Big Red, I’ve heard some people manage that without killing people.”

“Lies and slander.”

* * *

**New Avenger: Bucky Barnes Back From the Dead**

_By James Henricks, Reporter for the Bulletin, July 29 th, 2015_

New Yorkers will remember the day that Steve Rogers was first seen in this century. Limited video footage—since deleted—showed him running in the streets, stopping in Times Square. Reports soon followed of his miraculous freezing and revival after his reported death. Captain America fans will recall his original heroics during WWII and his squad, the Howling Commandos. They will also recollect that during a mission to capture HYDRA member Arnim Zola, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes went MIA, presumed killed though his body was never recovered. As it turns out, Captain Rogers wasn’t the only WWII soldier to survive this long.

Yesterday afternoon, Tony Stark held a press conference at the Avengers Compound, joined by all members of the affiliation and an unknown man with an obvious prosthetic arm standing near Captain America. Iron Man announced that Hawkeye was retiring from the Avengers but that his position as sniper had already been filled by Bucky Barnes, codenamed Winter Soldier.

While no questions were allowed, Stark offered a brief explanation to Sergeant Barnes’s survival.

After falling from the train in 1945, Sergeant Barnes was captured by German soldiers and cryogenically frozen. Details of the interim years have not been released, but the Sergeant recently escaped after the cryo-pod holding him failed due to lack of maintenance. He proceeded to make his way back to America where the Avengers found and took him in. They began the process of readjusting him to modern life. This makes Sergeant Barnes the longest held POW, even lasting past German memory of who they held.

Avengers ask for privacy and respect as they continue Sergeant Barnes’s path to recovery.

This, one might think, could be a sign. Captain America was the world’s first superhero and now, when the US is filled with civil unrest over superhumans, his best friend and right-hand man appears. Is it a warning of dangerous futures or a beacon for coming peace?

* * *

In a crummy apartment deep in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen, a man cleans his guns methodically, taking care that each part is functioning and ready for use. He kisses a photo before heading out, a familiar children’s story running through his mind.

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Bucky.  
> Remember when I said canon no longer applies? Yeah, this is what I meant.  
> Feel free to yell at me about it in comments or on my tumblr!


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